


the one where aziraphale can't say I love you

by assbuttsinlove



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assbuttsinlove/pseuds/assbuttsinlove
Summary: aziraphale wants to say I love you but he can't. but he really really wants to. so crowley helps. first kisses and fluff. and a touch of angst.





	the one where aziraphale can't say I love you

**Author's Note:**

> my second good omens fic. I just love these two!

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale says triumphantly. He beams at his reflection in the mirror and quite suddenly, his face crumples.

“No, no, no, it’s all wrong, he won’t like that. He won’t like it at all…” Aziraphale frets. He frowns and closes his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts. When he opens his eyes, he smiles at his reflection once more. “Crowley, you complete me, mind, body and soul.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Aziraphale shudders. He imagines for a moment, the look on Crowley’s face after hearing those words.

For one, the demon would probably never speak to him again, and he wouldn’t be able to find it in his heart to blame him.  Still, it troubles him.  These words.  They're so easy to say to himself in the mirror.  But to Crowley.  The thought of him actually saying these words to him makes the angel feel a little ill.  He pouts at his reflection.

“What are you fretting about, angel?” Crowley asks.

Aziraphale gives out an uncharacteristic yelp as he turns around, his wings unfurling slightly. “Crowley, oh for heaven’s sake! Haven’t you ever heard of a telephone?” he snaps.

Crowley pouts at him and flashes him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, angel, don’t get your knickers all up in a twist,” he teases.

Aziraphale bristles but finds himself calming at the sight of Crowley’s mischievous smile.

It’s been a week since the Ritz. A week since the world came _this_ close to ending.

They haven’t spoken since.

“What brings you here?” Aziraphale asks as he adjusts his tie.

“You. Why else would I come here?” Crowley asks, looking around.

“Perhaps for a book,” Aziraphale counters. “This _is_ a bookshop, after all.”

“You know I don’t read,” Crowley says with a little grin. He plops down in the nearest armchair and sprawls off with practiced ease. It comes so naturally to him to be so…luxurious. From his hair, to his clothes, to the way he sauntered into a room, everything about Crowley screamed decadence and luxury.

The angel, on the other hand, kept himself wound up tighter than…well, there was nothing on earth as tightly wound as him. It ended up being quite painful at times, keeping himself so… _right_ , all the time. He finally sits down and perches delicately at the edge of his seat.

“So now what?” Crowley asks.

Aziraphale cocks an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning the apocalypse has been thwarted. We did the thwarting. What do we do now?”

Aziraphale’s heart is lodged in his throat, an uncomfortable lump. What he _wants_ to say is this: “ _Well, now that the apocalypse has been thwarted, what I would like to do is tell you that I’m in love with you and I’d like us to get a cottage at the seaside and spend the rest of our days together. But you’re a demon and I’m an angel and we’re not supposed to want these things. But here I am…wanting.”_ What he actually says is this: “I mean, there are a plethora of things you could do! You could open up that flower shop you’ve always wanted to but never had time for. Or perhaps you could travel the world. Again. Or maybe learn to cook?” Aziraphale offers lamely.

Crowley frowns at him and removes his glasses. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks. His yellow eyes glint with suspicion.

Aziraphale blinks and smiles awkwardly. He feels his cheeks heat up. This is positively awful. “Nothing at all, I don’t know what you’re talking about! What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

“Nothing is wrong with me, love. But something is wrong with you…I…why do you keep saying _you_? Why do you keep telling me to do things on my own?” Crowley asks. He pulls himself up and finally sits like a normal person for once. “Why do you keep shutting me out, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale draws in a deep breath. Crowley doesn’t call him Aziraphale often; it’s usually a toss up between angel, or love, or something equally sweet that makes the angel weak in the knees. Whenever he uses the angel’s full name, he means business. “I’m not shutting you out…” Aziraphale says meekly. He trains his eyes on the floor, suddenly finding a very interesting spot near his shoes.

“You’ve been shutting me out for 6000 years,” Crowley says dryly.

Aziraphale looks up, his eyes widening. “I have not!” he says indignantly.

Crowley quirks an eyebrow and gives Aziraphale a look.

It’s a look that makes Aziraphale feel many different things at once. A bubble of guilt and shame rises in his chest. Guilt at the fact that Crowley is right about Aziraphale shutting him out, and shame, at the fact that he has been so hyper-focused on following the rules, that he allowed himself to pine for _6000 years_. “It’s difficult for me, Crowley, you know that,” Aziraphale says quietly.

The look on Crowley’s face softens and he nods. “I know, angel. I know. I don’t know if you know this but…I can’t function properly in this world without you,” Crowley says with a little smile.

Aziraphale feels his eyes well with tears and he blinks them away. “We can’t, Crowley…we just…we’re not supposed to…I…” his voice trails off and he looks away.

“It’s over, Aziraphale. The antichrist, Armageddon, it’s over for now. We’re…as free as we can be…and…I want to…spend time with you. I want to be with _you_ ,” Crowley says. “And I’m sorry I never said it more explicitly. God knows I should have. But whenever I hinted at it, you always…turned me down.”

Aziraphale looks up at Crowley, swallowing against a thick knot forming in his throat. He thinks back to the moments before Crowley had so unceremoniously popped into his bookshop, to his reflection in the mirror. _I love you, Crowley_. The thought pops into his mind, unbidden. Something curls in the pit of his stomach and he takes a deep breath. Crowley is right, he realizes. This is it, they had done what they needed to do and…why shouldn’t he be allowed to want things? Why shouldn’t he do things that would make him happy? Yes he is an angel, and Crowley is a demon, but what did that matter? If he has learned anything from living on Earth for all of these years, it is that love always flourishes, sometimes in the most unexpected of places. And love is always a beautiful thing, a force, the most bright and sought after energy in the world, and here he was, being offered love…and he was scared.

Fear.

It hits him quite suddenly and almost knocks the wind out of his sails.

How much longer must he allow fear to be in the driver’s seat? How much longer must he keep his mouth shut? Aziraphale looks over Crowley’s shoulder and sees quite literally, a manifestation of fear looming over him. Much like the four horsemen, fear too was something that found itself being summoned from over stimulated minds.

Aziraphale closes his eyes for a moment and centers himself. When he opens his eyes, the figure is gone, but Crowley is still there, looking at him.

“Crowley…I…I love you,” Aziraphale says softly.

Crowley’s eyes widen but he remains silent.

Aziraphale stands up and walks over to Crowley.

Crowley stands and looks into his angel’s eyes. “Say it again,” Crowley says softly.

“I love you, Crowley, and I want to spend every moment I can with you. I always have. I want to be with you…till everything is done and it starts all over again.”

Crowley smiles and chews on his bottom lip. “I love you, Aziraphale,” he says.

Aziraphale sighs softly and smiles, feeling his cheeks burn.

“Come here, you silly angel,” Crowley teases.

Aziraphale leans into him and Crowley wraps him in his arms. He breathes in the familiar scent of Crowley, a musky, spicy smell that now makes him feel like he’s home.

They separate themselves for a moment and Crowley immediately dips down and catches Aziraphale’s lips in a tender kiss. The kiss is everything Aziraphale had ever hoped it would be, starting off soft and sweet, until Crowley nips at his bottom lip playfully.

“So…what now?” Crowley asks again.

Aziraphale pauses before answering this time. He is quite enjoying the little throb in his lower lip and the feeling of being in Crowley’s arms. He runs his tongue along the little spot of tenderness, refusing to heal it right away. “I was thinking…perhaps a small cottage? Some place where we can just…”

“Be?” Crowley finishes hopefully.

Aziraphale nods.

Crowley hums appreciatively. “Can we find a place close to the water?” he asks.

Aziraphale beams at him. “Oh, but of course. It will be so lovely. I’ll decorate it nicely for us. And you can bring your plants!” he says excitedly.

“And we’ll have lots of shelves, for the books,” Crowley says with a smile.

“Oh the books!” Aziraphale says joyfully.

“And you,” Crowley says, almost shyly. “You’ll be there.”

Aziraphale blinks back the tears that have found their way back into his eyes once more. “Yes, my love. I will be there. And so will you,” he says.

Crowley nods and leans in to kiss him again. “Maybe I _will_ learn to cook,” Crowley says.

Aziraphale chuckles. “I think I would like that,” he says softly.

Crowley smiles at him. “Yes. Me too.”

Far above them, a woman smiles, and a field of wildflowers bloom. Love, the most powerful force in the world, has finally found its way. This one took her a long time, but she knew they would figure it out eventually.

She laughs happily and melts away into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> drop a line, don't be shy! comments make authors smile :0)


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